


The Return of the War Machine

by Bianca MarOu (glazedmacguffin)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glazedmacguffin/pseuds/Bianca%20MarOu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor decides to honor an old friend through trying to save an old enemy.  Mel is pretty much along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return of the War Machine

"But what are we doing _here_?"

The chipper ring of Mel's voice followed the Doctor as he strolled along the sidewalk, gently swinging his umbrella like a cane in time with his leisurely gait. It was a little chilly in London, early as it was in the year and the damp contributed to it. He expected that it was going to rain. A thunderstorm would be nice, the air always smelled pleasantly charged after one even if the weather made his hair twist and curl up in an irritating way. But that's what hats were for, weren't they?

"Hmm?" he finally responded after a moment, forgetting she'd asked something in all of his reflection on the weather and having to go back over it in his mind to retrieve what she'd asked. "Ah, yes. I'm here to honor an old acquaintance of mine. I wish to see if his misfortune has deepened, and if that is the case provide him with a welcome respite from what troubled him."

"Are you going to tell me what those troubles are or do we get to play a guessing game?" Mel asked, a bit of exhaustion in her tone. Yes, traveling with the Doctor was a ceaseless string of adventures and sometimes she just wanted to lounge about in a nice hotel (even if they'd had bad luck on their last excursion). Occasionally she swore that the man had the Time Lord equivalent to Attention Deficit Disorder. Oh, he would say that he wanted relaxation but as soon as the first problem came along that he could throw himself at and off he'd tear off like a dog pulled free of its leash; no amount of calling could plead him back. And even now rather than answering he seemed to be counting the addresses on the shops.

She flopped her arms against her sides, a useless flap of exasperation and rolled her eyes to punctuate the gesture. Fine, fine. If he was going to do this, she would play along as usual. He really was quite different now. Less demanding sometimes, more so at others, and irritatingly introspective constantly.

"A...ha." He announced, stalling in front of a costume boutique. "This would be the place. Wait, why would this be the place?"

"You don't even _know_?!"

"Mel, you can't expect me to know everything."

"No, but you expect you to and that's what worries me."

"Riiiight." He lifted his 'cane', tapped it against his puckered mouth and fixed his glare on that shop sign as if it were a Sontaran in a hoop skirt. It made no sense... until the door came swinging open, and what looked like a teenage girl came barreling out and right into Mel.

The Doctor grabbed for them both before they went down in an ungainly pile; his companion with an arm around her back and the other with a steady grip on her elbow. Strange sort of girl this was. She had light colored eyebrows and dark blue hair tied back in a bun so perfect it didn't seem as if one strand was coming loose. Her skin was as pink as Mel's, complexion immaculate for an age it made no sense for it to be, and blue eyes that looked as if they were filled in with the color her hair was than if it came naturally. He had to applaud her fashion sense, though. A three piece polyester suit a size too large for her and a shocking neon orange color that clashed with her skin tone? A very bold choice, if it was an intentional one.

"You ought to be careful," Mel said kindly, despite being careened into and offered to help the stranger stand.

"Yes, and you really must introduce yourself if you run into people." he added and released her, popping off his hat in an obligatory greeting. "I'm the Doctor."

The girl gaped like a fish for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. But she _looked_, really looked, at the Doctor and managed a "no!" before she went running down the sidewalk.

"That was rude. But she seemed as if she knew you..."

"I suspect she just might...." The Doctor muttered, ignoring the clatter of the shop door swinging open again. He didn't bother to chase after her, just watched her escape and then the clerk sprinting after her. Then as he lost her down an alley between a bakery and one of those big firm accounting offices.

"Was he your friend?" Mel motioned to the irritated clerk.

"Hush Mel, I'm thinking."

"I wish I could hear you thinking. Then I might know what was going on."

"No you wouldn't. Your mind would fry like a poached egg."

"That's not how you poach eggs."

"I didn't know you wanted to debate cooking. If I'd known you had the interest I would have shared a few culinary tricks-"

"Doctor!"

"Come along, Mel. No reason to be here anymore." He turned in place like a compass seeking a direction to go in, motioned when satisfied, indicating for her to follow him as continued around the block. She knew that he enjoyed it. _Knew it._ It was endearing and simultaneously maddening. But now she was curious about that girl herself.

~*~*~

It didn't take long for the rain to start pelting them, and the Doctor was at least more generous with his umbrella and a warm side to lean against than his umbrella. Rain streaming off the points in little rivulets held her gaze more than their surroundings. Surely she thought they should be going somewhere, find shelter, but the Doctor seemed quite content to stand on a little patch of grass that she always took as decorative. He'd probably be yelled at if a bobby saw them. It hardly mattered, though. She would just stick to his side and wait for him to think it through, and they would be gone before they got into any sort of trouble.

She hoped, anyway.

"Mel," he said, breaking the soothing white noise of the rain, "Did you see her shoes?"

"No, her suit and hair were far too loud for me to notice much else."

"She didn't have any."

Mel turned her head, cheek against his shoulder as she gazed up at him in confusion. "No shoes? But that pavement was rough. And she was running so fast..."

"Yes. Her skin was a touch smoother than you would expect one with calloused heels to possess. Also, even in an alleyway isn't it odd that the shopkeeper wasn't able to keep up with her. That alley had a dead end, and she wasn't wearing the most subtle of coloration."

"Do you think she phased out of reality?"

"Where in the heavens did you get that idea, Mel? Next thing you'll be blaming pixies."

"You mean there's no such thing as pixies?"

"I mean that it's more likely that Francis of Assisi took her than she phased out of reality."

Ah, those different and glorious ways that the Doctor could make one feel like an idiot or make himself look all the more the genius. "...Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Why are we standing here?" Almost in a whisper, she said it, hoping to coax the information out with the secretive tone.

"We're waiting," he returned in an equally quiet whisper.

"For who?"

"For what, you mean."

"For what, then."

"Lightning."

And with that, the Doctor found himself standing alone, Mel yanking away to head to the nearest overhang without any further breathy commentary.

"Wait! I didn't mean for us!" he called after her.

"That might not be what you meant, but that's what you'll get."

"Oh, it's no fun waiting alone," he complained, heading over to where she was and lowering the umbrella. He shook it out, though it would surely get just as wet when he wondered out again. "I suppose if you won't do that with me, we can at least go off to Cheviot Hills. I need to ask if certain remarkable items are also remarkably missing from a very remarkable collection there."

"It sounds remarkable," she chirped, joking despite her previous bout of cynicism concerning potentially getting toasted by whatever it was that he had in mind. "Do we give them a call and let them know we're coming?"

"No! Absolutely no phones," he demanded quickly, the sharpness of the order making her jolt a bit.

What could possibly be wrong with using the phone?

Instead, she responded in a miserable little nod, and a frightened stare. Whatever it was wrong with the phones, even if she'd meant the comment more in jest than an actual recommendation, she probably didn't want to find out about but would discover anyway.

She would probably find out.

~*~*~

Sergeant Zbrigniev hated this particular assignment; watching a dusty old collection of dusty old articles, kept from the annals of history because mankind was declared unprepared for that knowledge. They were probably right, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy his job any more than usual. UNIT had brought him in from there, and he'd assumed that Bambera would have him doing something respectable, and he hoped to receive that promotion to a better department soon. Though a welcome change... if a shocking one, was the appearance of an attractive young girl at his post at the gate station at the front of the depot.

"You! How did you get here?" Instead of the local accent, his voice was tinted with his Polish ancestry. Though Mel didn't stop to reflect on it as he had his hand on his rifle more quickly than she ever expected.

"I-I'm sorry," she said gently. "I know it seems unusual and all... but I came here with the Doctor and he would like to know if anything is missing."

"The Doctor?" The wonder, the surprise in his voice was all that she needed to hear to know that he knew precisely who she was mentioning and not the nearest veterinarian. "Why didn't he come to ask himself?"

"He said he had to check something. I'll stay right here, I promise. I just came to ask if something was missing."

"Let me check..." he reached for the phone.

She almost warned him not to. A sick little tingling in the pit of her stomach advised her that she should do just that. But when she went to speak she couldn't bring herself to do it. The words sounded mad even before they left her lips. _Don't use the phone. The Doctor warned me not to._ If she were him, she would have taken her as a spy for certain.

He spoke, briefly, voice going quieter. More even. He hung up and turned back to her, and that enthusiasm for having found a companion of the Doctor's had dwindled. "Where is the Doctor?" he asked.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me," she responded nervously, not liking this change in demeanor one little bit.

"He'll be back for you though, correct?"

"Yes."

"There was nothing missing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"That was a terribly quick check someone did. If this place is as big as the Doctor lets on, surely something might have slipped through. Can't you send someone to check."

"Nothing. Is. Missing."

Now she really didn't approve the change in his voice. Or the way that he kept eying the phone. It was disturbing and beyond her to do anything about, so she decided that she would just quietly wait. She did wish that he'd take his hand off that gun. At least he hadn't done the typical thing brainwashed people do and lunge after her, but she wasn't about to let her guard down.

~*~*~

"Just as I thought..." the Doctor said.

Still there, the old machine was. What had been called the **W**ill **O**perating **T**hough **AN**alog; WOTAN. Pity, how so many artificial intelligences could be corrupted. There was the potential for beauty there, for creativity. An impressive display of it he'd seen of their potential was among Monarch's androids, and that was because they were meant to so fiercely resemble humans. And in another piteous individual who'd once won his affection. Inevitably and unfortunately corrupted, time was unkind to these creations. A display of genius here, beneath his hand, that could have been a noble progression of mankind and a symbol of a human's dream of technological birth. Instead, here it sat in C19, the Vault, covered in dust and ignorance.

Save for one little switch, barely nudged into a different position.

Leaving a hand-print, he leaned in to gaze at that switch carefully. Whatever power the old computer had was now drained, but it _smelled_ as if it had been operating recently in that way that old computers smelled of crisp bugs that tried to crawl into them after the flickering lights. One of the major benefits of building them smaller, he was glad that man discovered.

He had point A and point Z. Now the rest of the letters he needed to confirm. It was important that he didn't go chasing off in the wrong direction.

This would have been so much easier if he could have lured that suspicious girl into getting struck by lightning while he knew that she lacked grounding. As that had ultimately failed, he would have to come up with a different way to slow her up. He would have plenty of time while checking on Mel.

He ducked behind the machine as a guard passed, making sure that they were long gone before scampering back to his TARDIS (skillfully planted right beside of a replica box) and scooted inside. Fortunately no one had noticed that there was now a twin decoy in the facility, or he hoped not anyway. Even humans with UNIT tended to look past the obvious when they were some of the better ones for noticing slight details about things being off.

He didn't intend to go far. The old girl didn't like these short jumps, sometimes going off in ridiculous directions just because she wanted to be somewhere else; but she had an attachment to her companions as the Doctor did. So long as one might possibly be in danger, she would generally do as she was told. A thrown toggle here, a flipped lever there, a fist thumping the console and a flick of his nose and he was off.

~*~*~

Mel's fingernails were starting to suffer the wait, fidgety and at a loss for what to do around the strangely quiet Polish Sergeant. That awkward _vworp_ was welcome to her ears.

And the man's gun was raising. "Don't move," he demanded, not reacting exactly positively to the sound.

"I... wasn't planning to-"

The sound of a door swinging open followed. Shuffling feet. And suddenly the Doctor was there, leaning into view of the window and pointing and shouting "**LOOK OUT! A STORK!**"

Funny how even some manipulated minds could be distracted at the suggestion of something nonsensical. By the time he'd spun back around, Mel was gone. The Doctor was gone.

"Hey! Halt!" He swung open the door to his little guard post just in time to hear the door to the TARDIS slam.

Mel put her hand to her chest, pressing her back against the door as if it might open without their permission. "That was close, Doctor. And a big risk."

"What's the fun in life without the risk? What did he tell you?" he was at the console again. Here she was, feeling like her heart was about to wrench out of her chest and he was as cool and calm as ever.

"He said they didn't find anything, but he spoke with someone on the phone first and he seemed... different, after that."

"Yes, well, he should. And there were a few items missing."

"Is this the part where I can _finally_ know what's going on?" her tone was shrill, demanding. After that, she felt that it was her right to know. And he should really face her, but he seemed more interested in jogging around the console room and readjust where they were going.

"Back when I was very young and very old, I met a scientist who had developed an artificial intelligence."

"This is going to be a very confusing story, isn't it?"

"I could tell you no story. That would be the least confusing, I would think."

"No, tell me the story. You were saying?"

"Oh no. It's much easier to just do what I say and then you won't actually have to think about-"

"Doctor, I _want_ to think about it. Does this computer have something to do with the girl? Does it control the telephones?"

"It doesn't control the telephones, it controls people that use them..." He hopped up to sit on the console, facing her. Finally ready to give her more attention than just idle chatting as he did his very important things. That she appreciated.

"And is the girl under the control of the computer?"

"That girl _is_ the computer. You see, UNIT isn't the only organization responsible for governing alien activity on Earth. There is a little known organization known as the 'Alliance of Shades'. Common folklore labels them as 'men in black'. Only instead of wiping memories as UNIT does, the Alliance of Shades will outright kill anyone who would expose the truth to underdeveloped planets."

She thought that was a very silly name for an organization, but she wouldn't argue. "How do they know?"

"They monitor communications on Earth, mostly from hidden bases. E-mails. Radio broadcasts-"

"Telephone calls!"

"Isn't it strange that an advanced race of android assassins can still be influenced by a primitive machine that ran off tapes and reels? WOTAN created war machines through the labor of slaves once to do away with humanity, and it seems luck and a hastily flipped switch gave it a ready made one. A walking _gun_." He uttered that part in utter contempt of even the word, leaning back and resting his hands on the console to keep propped up

Mel hugged her knees, sliding down to settle on the floor. Just what she always wanted to hear. Insurmountable odds and killer machines. She supposed this was going to be as difficult as dealing with those automated systems at Paradise Towers. "Was this computer your old friend?"

"Acquaintance. And no, though the maker I admired and simultaneously pitied... undone as he was by his own creation as all too many of his sort are... And on top of that having to watch his machine fall into madness. Never a pretty sight." A melancholy thought trailed back once more to his acquaintance. Indeed, his friend, though he didn't feel like much of a friend at the end. He shook it off, pressing on with his explanation. Self pity could wait, this time. He had a better idea, one that would rectify the guilt he still bore.

He continued, pondering aloud and speaking at Mel more than to her. "Typically the Alliance all looks the same. Very drab, very monotone. However, she was attracted to bright colors... She even chose a female exterior for herself, while most of the agents are fond of a bland unnoticeable sort of masculine look. She's probably terrified of me for what I did to her predecessor..."

"You mean hates you?"

"No, I mean terrified." His face twisted with pity. "If she hated me she would have killed me, killed you, even. She wants to keep me away. She has all the resources to vaporize me without even a dwindling atom built right into her, and she didn't." He hopped down, feeling the TARDIS settle in his mind more than any physical jolt. They were back in London as he'd dictated, though he wasn't sure where he wanted to go next.

"So she's... its daughter? Its reincarnation?" Mel mused, not quite ready to scamper off just yet. "Doctor, if I was new and lost and alone, I would want to go home..."

The Doctor perked, sitting upright. "Mel... that's brilliant." He wagged a finger. "She'll want to go to London Telecom Tower! WOTAN was invented there when it was the Post Office Tower. Where would the most secretive place in there be, I wonder?"

"The restaurant. No one goes there anymore." She stood up finally, dusting herself off. That was the Doctor's way. Make you feel inferior, make you melt into a puddle of fear, and then empower you by latching onto some tidbit of knowledge that you randomly mentioned. He might have just been obliging people when he did that, but it was encouraging nonetheless. It at least made her feel a bit more productive as he did another sweep of those controls.

~*~*~

WOTAN was its name. _Her_ name. It was interesting not to be an _it_, to have a choice of identity and gender that she was free to explore. She had been made to rule over the machines, to connect all the systems of the Earth and operate them as mankind needed them to be operated. Needed to be controlled, because mankind could obviously no longer govern itself.

It was worse than it was in her time. There was a spark of independence then. In this era it seemed the media had rotted out their will, their ability to grow. Mankind had grown stagnant, and they needed her more than ever. Starvation, sickness, pollution, the decimation of nature; all evidence that mankind had bred like roaches and likewise needed to be thinned out. Their overpopulation had become a debilitating sickness on the planet. She was no Dalek, and now that she knew what one was she had no intention of acting as one. Not all of mankind deserved to be exterminated. There would be no choice of genetic superiority. There would just be the deaths of those not smart or strong enough to escape the initial sweep.

She had managed to come across a blue suit that nearly matched the color she'd chosen for her hair, on that happened to fit better. She'd even spared the former wearer her life in return for the garment; after all, someone with such incredible fashion sense should be allowed to survive. A pair of round Lennon glasses rested neatly on the bridge of her nose, the same hue as the rest of her attire. She thought she looked quite dapper. She even wondered if she could find a skimmer hat to go with the outfit, among the billions of other thoughts concerning global annihilation she was entertaining. It was quite quaint.

Maybe she should find shoes before she found a hat.

It had grown dark out and she could hear rain pattering against the glass of the rotating restaurant. Inside she crouched over her gradually progressing global hub, welding and soldering and enjoying her work. It wasn't like the days when machines like her filled a whole room, no. She could take these tiny collected parts and create a simple transmitter, and with it take over three satellites that would send signals to eight stations. These stations would then connect her to every other satellite and computer in the world, the phone lines would be hers, _mankind_ would be hers.

"I bet you thought you were doing so well, too."

She turned on the familiar voice, accented with a trill and faint lisp. _The Doctor_. Again the Doctor. "Doctor, I would rather undo you where you stand than deal with you."

"Would you now?" he asked. "Then why haven't you, yet?"

He stepped into the light of her machine, underlit. She had heard his voice before. He hadn't sounded like that. She had never seen what he looked like because she lacked eyes. Small, strange, a touch pudgy. She extended her hand, the fingers and forearm contorting into a ray gun capable of vaporizing him. She didn't threaten again, but just stared at him in blunt earnestness.

"I don't want to destroy you," he admitted, blue eyes sad and she wanted to believe were genuine for reasons she couldn't identify. "You're unique. You're a special being among beings. You're creative now. Capable of constructing wondrous things. You were a machine constructed for _death_ but look what you can imagine!"

Every word brought him a step closer. Every syllable, until his chest was against the tip of that gun. Just daring her to shoot him. _Daring_ her to kill him. But his look was... full of pity.

"Don't look at me that way!" She hissed, emotion, anger evident in her voice.

"I lost an artificial intelligence long ago. I saw him grow beyond his purpose, become something more just to be corrupted. You're not precisely WOTAN anymore, are you? You're those collected conversations stored in that androids mind as well. You're those kind words you keep hearing people speak when they need to call someone. To remind them they love them. To seek support when the world is against them. Surprisingly little banter about alien life going over the line these days unless they're talking about television or cinema, isn't there?"

"I am WOTAN." Why wasn't she firing? She didn't quite know. She should, she did know that.

"You are only because you need the identity. WOTAN cared little about itself except as an orchestrator. You've made yourself interesting looking. You've spent time speaking with people... Please..." he started to put his hand on the end of the gun. "I can help you...."

"The same way you did before!?"

He frowned as she jerked back, nearly stepping into her project. His eyebrows knit, expression imploring. "No, wait-"

"You'll do the same, Doctor! You'll destroy- _kill_ -me again without guilt, and I won't fall for your tricks."

She aimed, and he winced and leaned back. Not at the gun, but the splash of the mop bucket he'd prepared for Mel to throw. The sizzle of circuits and the sight of her body stiffening up. Lines of electricity traced up her form, her body sparking with heat and energy. And then, like that, it was over. She toppled to the floor with a sound not unlike a fallen log.

"Funny," said Mel to the still form. "I fall for his tricks all the time." But then she noticed the forlorn set of the Doctor's face. "You look sad."

"...I am," he admitted. The only light now bits of flame from her machine from where the overload had caught fire. Even that would be gone, soon.

"Mel... Go in the TARDIS and get me a light and the tool kit in the third roundel from the left."

"Why?"

"I'm going to fix her and make her right. I still have an old acquaintance to honor, after all..."

**Author's Note:**

> Done as a prompt for Oncoming Storms on LiveJournal.


End file.
